Wednesday, June 06, 2007
6/6/07 The redhead?
If you didn't know better, at times you'd say Katrina has red hair! Well, strawberry blondish, anyway, depending on the light.
No matter what you call it, it is hard to believe she was born with black hair.
But it's also hard to believe it will persist, as the genetics are for dark hair. Still, could there be some recessive Irish characteristics manifesting themselves?
This modeling took place in a shopping cart at Trader Joe's this afternoon, where I pulled off a successful stock-up venture with all three kids. I love that Katrina can sit up in shopping carts now, since for the most part, the boys can't reach her (though I did have to pinch Julian's fingers to get him to quit pulling her feet after being told umpteen times to stop).
The only thing about her being in the cart, especially the narrow ones at Trader Joe's, is remembering the time that Gabriel climbed up the side of one and toppled the cart, with Julian in the seat. It wouldn't be hard for one of the boys to climb up there in the seconds I have my head turned to pick something off a shelf. ~Shudder~
We had an unexpected substitute swim teacher today: Gina!! I was thrilled! Julian started the class again half-heartedly crying and protesting, and finished it by swimming across the short side of the pool completely unassisted, delighted with himself. Good boy! Katrina didn't cry at all, and is getting pretty good at jumping off the side now. My little fishies.
I talked to a mom in playtime with one son just a few weeks younger than Julian. Somehow she commented that she didn't want her son to be an only child, but it wasn't working out. Partly, she said, I'm old. I can usually trump "old" moms on age, but it turns out that she and I are just a few months apart in age. It's a story I come across so often: secondary infertility, often, but not always, with a mom of my generation. These stories always give me pause, because as shellshocked as I still am about having another baby, my story is one so many people would love to live. Some moms are encouraged by my story, others are disheartened by it, and I feel uncomfortably, futilely guilty by the latter. Something so profound and life-changing we have no control over. We can't trade, compromise, negotiate, switch; like swapping a purple coat for a red one. I got a baby. Someone else who dearly wants one didn't. How did that happen?
Dave is in San Diego on a business trip until Friday night, so I'm playing single parent for the week. I'm playing up the pros, such as dinner at 5:30. That works great.
Posted by nb at 9:23 PM